Bittersweet Memories
by Sanity's-overrated
Summary: Rogue is left to deal with the new memories she's acquired after Liberty Island. spoilers for XMFC and X-men first movie  some aspects from the comic included as well
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Bittersweet Memories

**Summary: **Rogue is left to deal with the new memories she's acquired after Liberty Island

**Rating: **T

**Warning:** disturbing images from Holocaust

**Pairing: **none yet, but hinted Cherik in future chapters

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters mentioned I'm just borrowing them for now

**A/N**: I have been toying with the idea of writing an X-men fic for some time now and I finally just sat down and started writing. I've always thought how Rogue would have dealt with having another's memories in her head and the thought of seeing the relationship of Charles and Erik through an outsider's view point made me really want to sit down and write it for myself.

This is my first attempt at ever writing in this fandom so excuse me for any OOC-ness

Also I decided to make this a multi-chapter story, it was going to be a one shot but my mind went rampant with ideas and I decided to expand

Reviews = LOVE :D

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><p>Bright blue eyes, glassed over with unshed tears, look up at me. A mixture of pleading and resignation swirl in those blue orbs as they seem to pierce through my very soul.<p>

Feelings of disgust and guilt whirl around in my head, touching every part of my conscious as they filter through my mind. It's a cruel reminder that _this_ is my fault.

There's a pain in my chest and I feel my lungs begin to constrict making my breath come out in protesting gasps as I try to swallow the lump of shame that's formed in the middle of my throat. The pain slowly spreads through the rest of my body numbing me from where I kneel on the sandy shores of Cuba.

My hands shake uselessly hanging by my side as realization sinks in. Those five words echo around in my head, each new reverberation stinging worse than the previous one.

'_No Erik, you did this.'_

Rogue wakes with a start gasping for air. A thin sheen of sweat covers her brow making her hair stick to her forehead in a pasty fashion. She feels like she's choking as she tries to suck in as much air as possible. Her lungs feel empty and she knows it has to do with what she was dreaming.

Realizing she is in fact sitting upright in her own bed back at the mansion Rogue relaxes; slightly, knowing your surroundings can only do so much to calm someone.

Once her breathing evens out from the sputtering gasps they once were she allows herself to slump over pulling her knees tightly to her chest. Burrowing her head down Rogue is unaware of the silent tears that fall making their way down her cheeks, falling gracefully to the mar her nightgown as she shakes softly trying to quiet her sobs.

It was only a dream she tries to tell herself, but the statement is empty and she doesn't believe a single word. She knows in her heart that what she saw—nay what she felt—was far too real; the scene on the beach was certainly a memory.

Not one of her own, no, but it was now as much a part of her as the white streaks in her hair; yet another parting gift from the memories true owner.

Rubbing wildly at her eyes Rogue rolled over on her side to face the window in her room. Biting her bottom lip she tried to quiet her cries to simple sniffles, she didn't want to wake Kitty. The last thing she needed was to have to talk with the younger girl who no doubt would be firing questions off left and right.

This wasn't the first dream—memory she mentally corrects herself—that she'd had play out during her sleep. Ever since that night a top Lady Liberty she'd been experiencing these dre-memories.

Pulling up her blankets to chin level she blinked away a few of the remaining unshed tears. Those first few days had been tough; she'd seen images, horrible images.

Men, women, children being beaten and mistreated in unimaginable ways of cruelty; families being separated from each other; large groups of people being herded like animals onto trains into camps, taken from their home and stripped of their very existence by men in uniforms. People covered in grime looking like walking skeletons, others dying as starvation took its toll, they lived a sordid existence crowding in bunkers where maybe if they were lucky they'd get a meal for the night. Sleep was out of the question, and rightfully so, how could one possibly sleep when fear gnawed away at them? Fear that they'd be next, that during the night they would be taken and disposed of, after all they were dispensable.

God there had been so much fear; it radiated off the images and often felt much like her own creation. Rogue would wake up sweating, tears running down her face as she sputtered incoherently trying to make sense of the horrid things she had seen.

She tried her best to make sense of the images, but it wasn't until Storm covered World War II in class that she finally understood the meaning of the images that had plagued her at night.

She gasped at the images of Auschwitz that were displayed to the class. Tears stung her eyes as the realization set in that she had in fact seen these images before, in her dreams in fact. The dreams she'd been having were real, they were memories, but not hers.

With each slide she felt her chest tighten and breathing suddenly became very difficult. Each new image conjured up a new emotion. _Fear. Rage. Hatred. Disgust. Terror. Concern. Panic. Isolation. Abandonment._

Having long since tuned out Storm to listen instead to her internal thoughts as she remembered last night's dre-memory she corrected. She stood suddenly when a picture of a mass grave appeared, no longer able to sit idly as the images passed before her she quickly mumbled an excuse as she bolted from the room running to the nearest bathroom.

Tears flowing freely she barely reached the toilet before her stomach betrays her and begins emptying itself into the waiting porcelain bowl. She's not sure how long she stayed there, a crumpled mess holding onto the toilet as tears ran down her cheeks. But by the time her stomach has settled and she finds the fortitude to push herself from the cold tile floor and exit the stall class is long over.

Surveying herself in the mirror she splashes some water on her face trying to add some color to her cheeks. It does very little good, she still looks green around the edges and worry is evident in her red rimmed eyes. Exhaling shakily she drags her hands across the edges of her blouse trying to smooth the rumpled fabric. Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear Rogue takes one last look in the mirror trying to reassure herself that everything will be fine, and the memories locked in her head will soon fade away to and afterthought.

It's a pathetic attempt at comfort; she knows that the memories won't fade.

She remembers the feel of soft lips against her own. How long had it been? Almost a year now, perhaps longer?

She remembers the tentative motion of lips descending against hers. How she had slowly responded in kind. How the kiss had deepened with a need to intensify.

And then the moment was broken.

She can tell something is wrong long before the tremors start. Cody stills against her and a gasp leaves his mouth.

Eyes snapping open she pushes herself back in a panic as she watches Cody begin to seize on the bed, his eyes rolling back in his skull as his body shakes.

She screams in terror, backing away from Cody she withdraws into herself moving to the furthest corner of the room. She doesn't realize she is still screaming until Aunt Carrie is in the doorway asking what's wrong.

She's mumbling over and over "all I did was touch him."

Carrie bless her soul reaches out to place a hand on Rogue, no she was Marie then, Marie's shoulder to try and calm down her niece. She's rewarded with a shriek of "Don't touch me!" as Marie pulls away sinking to the ground in a blubbering mess.

Rogue swallows and she clenches her eyes shut replaying the memory, this one very much her own. It'd just been a kiss, her first kiss in fact. Weren't first kisses supposed to be nice? Something a girl would always remember for all her life?

Wiping away a single tear Rogue smiled grimly in the mirror. She would remember her first kiss alright. How could you forget sending your boyfriend into a three week coma with just a brush of your lips?

She still felt him in her mind sometimes, not as often as she had just after the kiss, but he was still there, ever present in her mind.

Blowing out a stream of air she turns away from the mirror. She plays back the words Magneto had to offer on Lady Liberty "I first saw her in 1949. America was going to be the land of tolerance. Peace." She exhales again, softly this time as she slowly pieces together the images she's been seeing along with the memory of Magneto.

She gasps inhaling sharply, it suddenly makes sense.

Vaguely she hears Magneto's voice in her head "sorry my dear…"

The kiss had been a fleeting touch, not nearly as long of contact as Magneto had created atop the Torch on Liberty Island. Those memories of Auschwitz are going to be with her forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** So I found some mistakes in chapter one after posting, they have been fixed as of today. Just to give a heads up incase this is a little hard to follow, chapter 2 is a flashback continued from when the end of ch1 when Rogue realizes Magneto's memories are stuck in her mind. Ch3 is in the works, and that one will tie back into present time (well what happens after the first memory presented in ch1)

As always

**Reviews=LOVE!**

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><p>Rubbing at her eyes Rogue laughs bitterly as she recalls the day she realized the images she'd been plagued with were none other than Magneto's memories.<p>

She felt hollow inside and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and burrow under her covers; cry out in frustration. It wasn't in the cards.

When she'd finally left the confines of the bathroom she found herself faced with a rather distressed Storm. It was the last thing she needed. Teachers were a nasty business; they always asked questions, far too many questions.

Worry etching itself across Storm's face the elder woman's brows knit together as she asked "are you ok Marie?"

Rogue bit her bottom lip thinking how she should answer. _'How do you tell an X-man that you've got their archrival's memories lodged in your brain?'_

She sighed dropping her gaze from Storm's, _'you don't.'_ nodding mechanically she mumbled "just a little tired." She tried her best to give a sense of finality that she would rather not talk about anything; Storm seemed to have missed the hint.

Forcing a smile Storm hesitantly placed a hand to Rogue's shoulder "are you sure you don't want to talk about it sweetie?"

Rogue feels a swell of anger fill her body and she jerks away from the hand that was meant to be comforting. Before she can even process why she is suddenly so angry her eyes narrow on their own accord to mere slits and she's growling out in response "I said I'm fine!"

Cheeks flushing Rogue blinks in confusion _'where did that come from?'_

Storm straightens up trying to mask the look of shock that flashed across her face at Rogue's brash display. Flustered she stumbles over which words to use before settling on "perhaps you should go up to your room." As an afterthought she adds "Jean mentioned the prolonged exposure to Logan might have you acting…_aggressive_."

And the anger is rearing its ugly head once more, only this time it's worse.

"Yeah, and what do you know?"

Storm flinches at the stinging venom the words were spoken *snarled* with.

"Marie, I've already spoken with the Professor, you're excused from classes for the remainder of the week."

Eyes narrowing Rogue pushes past Storm in a huff; anger is radiating off her in waves and she's not sure where it's coming from, but she doesn't care, she just needs to get out of here. Far away from Storm, and those dreaded prying questions.

Stalking off down the hallway Rogue pauses when Storm calls out "Marie, we're only trying to help."

Turning around Rogue forces out a laugh, it comes out choked and somewhat mockingly. Sneer firmly in place she bites out "so far you've all done a bang-up job."

She leaves after that, unaware of the single tear making its way down Storm's cheek as she wrestles with her hold on composure.

When Rogue reaches her bedroom she no longer feels angry. In fact, she feels more like herself than she has in days.

Toeing off her shoes Rogue crawls into bed pulling the blankets tightly around her, attempting to make her very own cocoon to drift away in.

She knows she should apologize to storm; the way she snapped at her had been wrong. Rude, was putting it nice, she'd been downright disgraceful towards her teacher.

Storm's warning comes to mind:

'…_the prolonged exposure to Logan might have you acting…aggressive.'_

Perhaps it wasn't her fault.

Rolling to lay on her back a small frown graces Rogue's lips. Why weren't Logan's memories floating around with Magneto's and Cody's?

Then again between memories of Auschwitz and Logan's foul temper maybe it was best not to question the absence of another's memories from her mind.

Eyes closing Rogue exhaled softly trying to clear her mind hoping that maybe tonight would be night-memory free.

Its pitch black and absolutely freezing, even with the wetsuit on; however I barely register the numbing cold. My mind is focused on one thing, one person. Shaw.

_Must kill Shaw._

Hands extended out in front of me I try to command the anchor to my will and stop Shaw from escaping once more. I couldn't let him get away, not this time.

My vision begins to blur around the edges, I feel very lightheaded and if the bubbles rising around me are any indication of my oxygen levels then I'd guess my lungs were nearing empty.

I should stop flailing and resurface to replenish my lungs, but I haven't completed my task yet. Shaw is still very much alive.

Arms are suddenly wrapped around me tightly attempting to yank me upward to the surface. I begin to struggle, instinct taking over, my first notion is to resist this stranger's grasp on me.

Then I hear it; a voice.

'_Friend you are going to die if you do not calm down.'_

I still instantly because the voice sounded so close; almost internal.

My head breaks through the water and I cough trying to inhale. Bobbing there in the middle of the ocean I look at –my savior—no, the fool who jumped in after me.

"How did you do that?'

Blue eyes blaze intensely as they lock on to mine.

"You have your tricks I have mine."

I quirk an eyebrow _'tricks, what does he know?'_

"I'm like you, just calm your mind."

'_It's almost as if he can read my mind…'_

My eyes widen as his words register. "I thought I was alone," I whisper looking to him for confirmation.

"You're not alone…you are not alone…Erik."

I nod slightly looking at this man before me. A man who jumped in to save me; a man whose name I don't even know.

The voice is back this time with a hint of amusement.

'_Charles. My name is Charles.'_

Rogue woke shivering in bed gasping slightly. It took her a few seconds to relax and once she did she noticed Kitty perched on the edge of her bed a curious look on her face.

Tugging the blankets to wrap around her shoulders Rogue fixed Kitty with a look of annoyance.

"Are you ok?"

_No, my mind is filled with Magneto's memories, I snapped at Storm today, I think I just met a younger version of the Professor, and if I'm meant to relive Magneto's entire existence I might just lose my own mind!_

A thin smile finds its way to Rogue's lips and softly she replies "I'm fine."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: if I'm going to be perfectly honest, I had a lot of trouble with this chapter. In fact I wrote it pretty fast but I just hated the way it turned out, not all of it just the memory sequence so I have been messing around with that for a while...now however I do rather like how this turned out. I recently got my copy of XMFC and have been watching it nonstop so hopefully the next few chapters will just flow through me XD**

**Thanks again for everyone who has reviewed and/or put this story on alert, it means a lot :)**

**enjoy, and as always**

**REVIEWS=LOVE**

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><p>Rogue stares at the clock on her nightstand the neon numbers glaring back at her, an angry red blur. It's a quarter past three and no matter how much she's tried to calm her mind and drift off back to sleep, each attempt seems futile.<p>

Mag—Erik , she corrects. The name sounds foreign on her tongue, but it is in fact his name. The more Rogue learns about _Erik_ from his memories that continue to resurface the less he seems like Magneto the monster hell-bent on mutant domination.

Still, more humanistic or not his memories always result in a surge of adrenaline making sleep near impossible to reclaim. _'Couldn't he have one normal, non-threatening, perfectly calming memory? Was that too much to ask for a girl trying to sleep through the night…for once this month?'_

Shifting once more, this time to roll on her stomach, Rogue fluffs her pillow. At this point she's libel to start counting sheep if it will bring her sleep; she hasn't slept through the night in weeks now. Between sifting through holocaust memories and dealing with the affects of Logan's attitude being an added fixture sleep took a back seat in importance.

Erik's latest memory that had resurfaced was especially troubling to Rogue.

For one, it wasn't a complete memory. It was more feelings; everything internalized. Well almost everything, there had been one image that stuck out, those blue eyes that seemed to pierce through her. They were familiar, she'd seen them before in some of Erik's other memories, she was sure of it; you didn't forget eyes like those.

And that's what troubled her. Because in the back of her mind she knew the reason the eyes were so familiar was because they were in fact Charles', the Professor's she mentally reminds herself. She doesn't know him as Charles; Erik does, not her.

The Professor's eyes had been filled with a sense of despair and anguish, glazed over with unshed tears as they looked upwards, pleading almost. It was all together heartbreaking, and that's what really bothered Rogue. She only had part of the memory, and now she was certain she didn't want the full memory to resurface anytime soon.

She knew that whatever happened on that beach left Erik feeling extremely guilty and judging by the hurt filling Charles' own eyes neither man was happy with the outcome.

That's probably why she was still awake now. Part of her knew that once her eyes shut she'd likely gain another element of the memory, but what if she wasn't ready for that?

She'd seen Erik's memories from Auschwitz, but judging from the raw emotions of guilt and pain that she'd felt tonight perhaps what had been left unseen to her was even worse. _'if that was even possible.'_ Rogue wasn't keen on finding out if her belief was true or not, and so maybe she was forcing herself to remain awake rather than face the pending memory that waited for her once her eyes closed.

Giving a sigh of resignation Rogue shifted once more to lie flat on her back. Staring up at the white ceiling she wondered slightly amused if there was a 'right' way to approaching this matter.

Shaking her head at the silly notion she decided that she was just over thinking things and complicating matters worse; instead she simply started counting.

'_1…2…3…'_

It seemed like this was the worst decision ever, but somewhere around 316 she finally dropped off, succumbing to sleep's persuasive pull.

Interrupting Raven and Hank from having their little moment was perhaps a cruel thing to do, but it was the least of my worries. I was just bidding time, waiting for everyone to fall asleep before I began my search for the files on Shaw. This was CIA after all; they had to have something, anything I could use.

Locating the files on Shaw had been a little easier than I had expected. They weren't hidden; not even under watch.

Seems Moira had let her guard down and the cabinets filled with files had remained unlocked. It was almost teasing to put them there just in reach and not expect me to lift them.

It's what I wanted, what I need. I'd been searching for Shaw and now at the tips of my fingers was an entire file on him. It was with the greatest of ease that I pulled the file out from the cabinet.

Everything I needed to know was here, conveniently labeled in this manila folder.

'_Shaw, Sebastian_

_File No. 118470'_

Staring at the label once more I allowed a slight smirk to find its way to my lips. Placing the folder in my briefcase a sigh of relief leaves my lips as I hear the locks click. The folder is safe now; confined to my own briefcase I had brought to the compound with me. The only option left now is to leave.

We were supposed to be confined to headquarters; it seems Charles had upset some CIA officials who didn't take kindly to finding out about the existence of mutants. '_Then again I've never been one to follow rules,' _I think as I close the door behind me silently.

Slipping on my leather jacket I make my way to the glass doors that lie at the front of the compound. They're 20 feet away, 20 feet and then freedom. Yes, freedom, and sweet revenge.

I've made it this far with out anyone noticing that I'm running, no not running, just not staying here. I had more important things to do than be confined under CIA watch. I reach the door and automatically quicken my pace; there's no need to be caught now.

Maybe I'm too focused on the contents of my briefcase, or just worried about reaching the car before I warrant unwanted attention, but whatever the reason I don't pick up on the fact that I'm not alone out here.

The shuffling of feet should tip me off to the fact that someone is outside with me, but it's not until I hear the voice that is suddenly becoming all too familiar that I still.

"From what I know about you, I'm surprised you've managed to stay this long."

My grip tightens on the handle of the briefcase. _'What I know about you?'_ The presumptuous response angers me, what could he possibly know?

Turning around slowly I fix my gaze on Charles, feeling a slight frown form on my lips I ask evenly "what do you know about me?"

The man has the smuggest look I've ever seen and rather than be intimidated by my steely gaze I'm fixing him with he just smirks.

"Everything," he replies sounding rather self-satisfied with his declaration.

'_Ah yes a telepath.'_ The thought of my own mind being invaded by another on a whim infuriates me and before I can process what I'm saying the words are tumbling out from my mouth rather bitterly.

"Then you know to stay out of my head." There's an underlying edginess bordering on the line of a threat and a mere suggestion in my words, and I figure Charles will pick up on it and just drop his crusade to talk me out of leaving so I turn away from him.

I'm wrong; on both accounts.

I've taken no more than two steps when I hear the clicking of shoes on the pavement and Charles' voice soon follows.

"I'm sorry Erik, but I've seen what Shaw did to you."

I stop, grounded in place. Not many things would have made me freeze, but Charles seems to have picked the one thing that would. My past is shaky at best; I have my demons I know that and I would never wish on anyone to have to relive the horrors I have gone through.

"I've felt your agony," he continues, stretching out the word agony. He sounds pained and I stiffen at the words he has to offer. "I can help you."

It's when I hear those words that I regain control. _'Help, how can he possibly do that?' _I scoff as I let the words sink in; who does this man think he is?

"I don't need your help," I bite out, a little more roughly than I should have, as I turn to face Charles. I leave the '_I work alone'_ unspoken.

He still doesn't seem to grasp what I'm trying to say and instead launches into a final attempt of reason.

"Don't kid yourself. You needed my help last night. It's not just me you're walking away from," he speaks, the words coming off a little cold; the firm grasp he's had on his composure is fracturing slightly.

He's silent now and I think he's finally done, perhaps realized he's not going to get through. Instead he takes two steps closer to me and continues in more reserved tone.

"Here you have the chance to be part of something much bigger than yourself."

I swallow nervously but don't say a word. I don't trust myself to speak, so rather I continue to stare at Charles with what I assume is a mask of indifference.

He finally seems to understand he can't sway me from leaving, because now he is ducking his head breaking away from my gaze.

"I won't stop you from leaving," he finally states locking eyes with me as the words leave his mouth. "I could," he continues, nodding for emphasis. It's not quite a threat, more a reminder and I know it's true. "But I won't," he adds softly as he begins backpedaling.

He turns around heading for the door and I allow myself to watch him go thinking about what he's said. He's left me with the ball in my court, but suddenly the rules seem to have changed. He's giving up on reasoning with me and I have to wonder if this is the same man who jumped in without a second thought to pull me out of the water and keep me from drowning.

He's nearly at the door when he calls out "Shaw's got friends. You could do with some."

I pull my eyes away and turn back to the parking lot allowing my feet to carry me forward and continue my mission. I take a few steps before I falter.

Looking between the compound and parking lot I sigh in frustration before walking back to the door.

'_Never reason with a telepath.'_

Once inside I make for the room with the cabinet, reluctantly I pull out the files on Shaw and place them back where I found them. I'll get my opportunity, but right now there are other things I can do.

It's nearly nine in the morning and I haven't seen Charles since our talk last night. I've made it a point to remain out of sight; instead I've been wandering the compound trying to learn a little about the place.

I'm not sure where I've wandered to, but I notice one of the doors in the corridor I'm standing in is pushed open. There's talking going on, and normally I wouldn't eavesdrop, but the words I hear coming from the room intrigue me.

"…so it could enhance your telepathic powers, help us find other mutants for our division."

It's a private conversation, that much is certain, but I can't help myself from walking in to the door a question poised on the tip of my tongue. "What if they don't want to be found by you," I ask pointedly. It's then that I notice that Charles is in the room sitting opposite of that CIA guy in charge of this division.

"Erik," he replies. He seems genuinely surprised to see me, and it almost hurts to think that he believes I would desert so easily. "You decided to stay," he adds his lips curving slightly in a small smile.

I offer him a polite nod. _Yes, I am staying._

"Although you think I cope my head is filled with hope of someplace other than here…"

The words pierce through Rogue's sleep muddled brain and soon she finds herself blinking her eyes open. Her lashes flutter rapidly as her eyes adjust to the light shining in from her bedroom window.

Sitting up in bed Rogue looks at the clock poised on her nightstand.

8:35

Surprised that she had actually fallen asleep she made a mental note never to criticize the idea of counting sheep again. Shutting off her alarm Rogue felt a surge of happiness fill her, her sleep hadn't been fitful in the least bit.

Replaying tonight's memory in her head Rogue lifted her hand to her lips. For the first time in weeks she smiled and it was completely genuine.

'_He had stayed.'_

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><p><strong><em>AN: so I totally meant to add this when I originally posted this chapter but it completely slipped my mind. In case anyone is curious, the song that wakes Rogue up is Distant Dreamer by Duffy, its a very beautiful song, and I thought it somehow fit with her situation_**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: alright so this took longer than expected but I'm happy to present the new chapter School has been a little hectic…I seriously hate the Iliad and all those other ancient Grecian plays right now… however I did manage to add Magneto into an essay XD regardless I had some free time *during a lecture* so I began writing, I started with the memory, which was actually a better tactic than I had been using. This chapter got a little bit out of hand, I didn't intend for it to be as long as it is, but this by far is my favorite chapter I have written :D**

**I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it**

**Also I'd like to thank all of you who have put this story on alert, it is a great influencer to continue writing, and quickly at that! Chapter 5 is in the works!**

**And as always**

**Reviews=LOVE!**

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><p>Chapter 4<p>

Pulling out an array of pens and pencils Rogue began setting up her desk so she would be ready to take notes for class. Mr. Summers, Cyclops, had assigned them to read Mark Twain's _Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_, and today they were supposed to be going over symbolism throughout the novel.

Rogue was a little worried, she had read the novel; sort of. Every time she would try to read she found herself dozing off from the lack of sleep she'd been able to get, and inevitably a memory would follow.

Oddly some were repeats, but she had remembered two new memories quite vividly.

Erik and _Charles_, The Professor she reminds herself, were sitting outside on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. A chessboard was set up between the two of them, but it had taken a backseat to the conversation they had started on CIA involvement and what role they as mutants played in the scope of things.

She could remember how the wind flowed freely slightly nipping at her fingertips. Still picture the sun slowly making its descent downwards, having settled down behind the Washington Memorial. She could still see how the light reflected off the water surrounding the Washington Memorial, giving the entire monument the illusion of having a golden glow. Remember the trees, whose once green leaves were in a transition to browns, oranges, and reds.

She could still feel the slight trickle of tension weaving its way in between the comfortable friendship the two had fallen into quite easily. Erik had firmly believed, still did in fact, that another mass genocide was imminent. Charles didn't exactly share that view, not in the slightest. He trusted the humans, knew they were capable of change and hate was not the only option. He believed that coexisting peacefully with the humans was a completely viable option. And now that they'd laid their hands out for the other to see, the knowledge that they disagreed had brought them to a stalemate.

It was almost heartbreaking to see from the outside. Here were two men, who had felt an immediate connection to one another. An instant bond that they were able to create, and now their seemingly perfect friendship had the possibility of being threatened. All together tragic in Rogues mind.

The other memory was slightly more humorous, well to an extent.

They were standing atop a gigantic satellite dish, Charles and Erik, only this time they were not alone; there were two other boys there with them.

One of them wore glasses; he was a tall gangly boy with pale white skin and brown hair that flopped down across his forehead. He stood at the far end of the walkway atop the dish. He was dressed rather neatly, with a white button up shirt and charcoal grey tie that peeked out from a grey sweater. He wore a black coat that was buttoned up to the top button. He was gripping the bar surrounding the landing looking expectantly at the other boy who was wearing some sort of flight suit.

The other boy was in between Charles and Erik; he had a head full of messy red curls. Blue eyes looked down warily at the ground looming beneath him. He was wearing a grey tracksuit that had a harness of some sort strapped across his chest. There was a wedge of yellow and black fabric connected from his arms to his sides, that when he moved his arms gave the appearance of wings.

He seemed very uncertain about what was going to happen when Charles suddenly gave him a comforting hand on the shoulder and reassured him that he wouldn't have to do anything he didn't want to.

The redheaded boy's eyes snapped up to glare at the other boy accusingly. He didn't trust him, and made sure that the boy knew that fact.

Charles sent the bespectacled boy a glance as if to say _'don't say a word'_. He was trying to reason with the boy next to him that they didn't have to do this right now, when suddenly Erik stepped forward and gave the redheaded boy a sharp push.

The boy went tumbling forward screaming as he began to plummet to the metal dish below.

Charles had jumped forward, shocked that Erik had simply pushed the boy he'd been trying to calm down. Erik stood there, hands wrapped across his chest looking down expectantly as the boy continued to careen downwards.

Then just as the boy passed over the lip of the dish he was suddenly pushing himself upwards with his screams, and soon he was sailing up to cloud level as he began getting a hold over his new skill of flight.

Erik had smirked watching the boy who was now lost in the surge of being able to fly. And as mad as Charles had been at that moment, he couldn't help but allow a small smile to form on his face when Erik turned towards him saying "what? You know you were thinking the same thing."

Rogue shuddered slightly and made a mental note to never be alone on a satellite dish with Erik. He obviously was not above pushing a child from atop the structure. And for the first time since that fateful night atop Lady Liberty, she was thankful that her hands had been cuffed in place to the bar.

Grabbing one of her pens Rogue flipped open to a clean page in her notebook looking up attentively waiting for Cyclops to begin his lecture.

She was scribbling away trying to catch every word that rolled past Cyclops' lips when she felt a yawn erupt past her lips. Bringing a hand up to her mouth she yawned again and felt her eyes begin to blink rapidly as she tried to wake herself up.

Last night had been a rough night, but not because of any resurfaced memories, no she had tried finishing her required reading, and things didn't go quite as planned. She had ended up sprawled out across her desk amidst a sea of books she had been putting off reading. The sleep had been fitful, and when she had finally sunk into a comfortable lapse of sleep her alarm had begun blaring signaling the start to a new day.

Feeling another yawn move past her lips Rogue allowed her head to drop slightly so it was resting on her left hand. She continued writing with her right hand, but she soon found her hand trembling as she fought to keep her eyes open.

Breathing deeply she felt the pen drop from between her fingers and her last resolve to stay awake slipped away. Her eyes drooped shut soon after the pen rolled to the desktop, and Rogue didn't bother to even try to open them again. She let sleep claim her, the continuous stream of speech coming from Cyclops lulling her into an even deeper sleep.

Inhale close eyes. Exhale open eyes.

I'm staring down the barrel of a gun; a very much loaded gun. I can feel the metal humming in front of me, and even though the weapon aimed at my face could possibly bring death, I feel a surge of excitement flow through my body.

I know it's wrong to face death so willingly, almost tauntingly with open arms, but I've lived through worse.

There's a clicking metallic sound as the gun is cocked. I take another deep breath as my eyes flicker from the barrel to Charles who is holding the gun in place.

"You're sure," he asks looking tentatively at the gun in his hand and then beyond the barrel to me.

I sigh nodding slightly. _'Don't back out on me, I need this.'_

"I'm sure."

Charles grimaces at my response suddenly appearing even less sure of his ability to do what I've asked.

"All right," he replies, almost as if he's trying to convince himself that this entire situation is just that; all right.

Taking a deep breath he raises the gun higher, steadying it in front of my face.

I feel the cool steel of the barrel press against my forehead and against my better senses the corners of my lips twitch pulling themselves into a shark-like grin as I stare at the gun anticipating the bullet that will soon be traveling down the barrel.

I need this after all. In this moment I can assert control, I can stop the bullet; this time.

I'm grinning wildly at the prospect of being in control of the outcome. I can feel my cheeks begin to burn from the pull of my smile.

I'm ready for this. I _want_ this. I _**need**_ this.

Charles' eyes slip shut as he brings his finger to rest on the trigger. There's a sharp intake of air and then his eyes shoot open and he's stuttering out an apology.

"No. No, I can't. I'm sorry," he drops his hand and the gun falls uselessly, forgotten entirely, by his side. I feel a frown form on my face, but before I can respond Charles is continuing.

"I can't shoot anybody point blank, let alone my friend."

'_I need this; you can't take this from me.'_

My hand reaches out for the gun and soon I'm guiding it back to rest against my forehead. Holding the barrel in place I look at Charles, eyes flashing with a sense of danger.

"Oh come on. You know I can deflect it," I reason.

'_I need this. Please don't deny it.'_

"You're always telling me how I should push myself," I shoot back almost mockingly as I twist his own words back on him.

'_You can't; I need this.'_

Pulling the gun back forcefully out of my grasp, Charles glares at me. I can almost feel the anger that is rolling off him in waves as he stares at me, an appalling look on his face.

"If you know you can deflect it then you're not challenging yourself," he grits out.

Sighing exasperatedly he looks at me thoughtfully.

"Whatever happened to the man who was trying to raise a submarine," he asks as he lifts his hand to give me back my gun.

Shaking my head vehemently I stutter out "Wha—I can't," grabbing the gun I shudder. "Something that big? I need the situation, the anger."

"No, the anger is not enough," Charles replies staring at me evenly.

My eyes narrow "it's gotten the job done all this time," I bet out.

Charles shakes his head "it's nearly gotten you killed all this time."

His eyes light up and I know he's getting ready to present a compromise.

"Come here," he says patting my shoulder as he turns to the stone wall at the edge of the manner. "Let's try something a little more challenging," he calls out.

It unnerves me that he's so sure I will follow; perhaps he's in my head.

I don't dwell on that thought but allow my feet to carry me forward until I'm standing next to Charles at the wall.

"You see that," he asks pointing to the satellite dish at the edge of the property.

I nod suddenly feeling uncertain where he is going with this.

"Try turning it to face us," he replies nonchalantly as if he's just asked me to pass him the salt rather than rotate a gigantic satellite in the distance.

My eyes flicker over the dish, I've never had to move something that big on a whim. I'd always had anger on my side, fueling my powers, pushing me to greater accomplishments.

Swallowing I turned back to look at Charles. My eyes must have screamed uncertainty because he gave a slight nod of approval before eyeing the dish behind me.

Taking that as my cue, I turned to face the dish and raised my hands up in front of me.

Fingers outstretched my hands shook as I tried to call out to the dish. Grinding my teeth together I grunted trying to push harder. My hold was weak and even though my arms were trembling filled with tension as I grabbed at the air I knew it was all in vain.

Gasping for air I crumpled against the wall, my hands falling down underneath me. I can hear my heart thumping loudly in my ears and feel my cheeks flaring red from the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. Slumped over the wall I pushed myself up to rest on my forearms while I got my breathing under control.

There is shuffling on the gravel behind me and then I hear Charles' voice.

"You know, I believe that true focus lies somewhere between rage and serenity," he speaks sounding confident.

Feeling my heart rate return to normal I pushed off the wall to face Charles.

"Would you mind if I," he asked wiggling his hand before raising two fingers to his left temple.

I wasn't sure what he was going to do, but I felt myself nodding in approval.

Fingers resting on his temple his eyes slipped shut.

I felt a small intrusion at the edge my mind and then a feeling of warmth began to spread throughout me.

An image of mama appeared in my mind. She was lighting the menorah as she gazed lovingly at me. It would be our last Hanukah together, but that thought fell away as I focused on the moment.

Over the candles I can see mama smile. I felt a rush of feelings wash over me. _Happiness. Warmth. Affection. Love. Safety. Protection. Home._

It wasn't until the image faded that I noticed the tears prickling my eyes. Letting out a shaky breath my gaze flashed to Charles.

"What did you just do to me?"

Wiping away a tear, Charles looked to me smiling reassuringly.

"I accessed the brightest corner of your memory system,' he spoke sounding rather proud. Eyes softening he smiled, seeming to radiate pure warmth as he continued softly "it's a very beautiful memory Erik, thank you."

I dropped my gaze to the ground as a nervous chuckle burst past my lips.

"I didn't know I still had that," I whispered in awe.

Charles was suddenly standing next to me studying me intently, as if trying to figure out how to word his next statement, before he opened his mouth to speak.

"There's so much more to you than you know," he spoke carefully. "Not just pain and anger, there's good too, I felt it," he continued more confident in what he was saying. "When you can access all that, you'll possess a power no one can match. Not even me," he finished softly.

I stayed quiet letting the words sink in. As the final three words made their way through my mind I realized that my previous assessment at the CIA compound had been utterly wrong. Charles did have faith in me; perhaps too much, but he believed in me and that's what was important.

The comforting pat on my shoulder knocked me out of my thoughts and I raised my head to look at Charles who was smiling brightly.

"So come on, try again."

Turning to the satellite again I gave one last look to Charles before focusing completely on the dish.

Letting out a breath to calm myself I replayed Charles' words in my head as I raised my right hand up slowly until it was poised outstretched in front of me.

'_Between rage and serenity.'_

Thoughts of Mama came to mind.

_Mama, warmth, safety, love, acceptance, Charles, not alone, belief, trust._

It became a repetitive mantra echoing in my mind as I stretched out through my fingers to the metal in the dish. I felt the metal hum beneath my hold, felt it move to my call as I rotated my hand.

_Safety, love, Mama, trust, Charles, belief._

Arm shaking I felt a tear run down my cheek but I ignored, instead focusing on my mantra.

_Love, Mama, safety, Charles, trust._

I could hear the satellite creak in protest as I commanded it to move, and I felt a surge of pride begin to quell in my stomach.

I felt, more than saw, Charles straighten up next to me as he watched the satellite shift. He gave me a quick look before turning back to the dish a small smile reaching his lips as I managed to completely turn the dish towards us.

I begin to laugh, face splitting into a big grin as I stare at the dish and what I've accomplished.

Dropping forward I allow myself to breathe in relief. I can hear Charles' hearty laugh as he gives me another friendly pat on my back.

"Well done."

I look at him smiling radiating gratitude, but then again he must already know; he had after all believed from the get go.

We are both laughing softly, relishing over today's training success when Moira sticks her head out of one of the windows.

"Hey," she yells out towards us. "The President's about to make his address," she calls out before retreating back inside.

Whatever sense of pride and accomplishment we were sharing suspended in time has been broken by Moira's interruption.

Charles ceases his laughing and gives me another pat on the shoulder before heading off to the mansion.

I sigh looking at Charles' retreating form as I drag a hand over my face.

'_There's so much more to you than you know.'_

Grabbing my gun off the ledge I slowly trudge back to the mansion.

'_This had better be important Kennedy.'_

Rogue felt a slight nudge dig into her side. Her first thought was to ignore it and continue sleeping, she so desperately wanted sleep; however, when the nudge returned rather persistently this time, Rogue's eyes fluttered open.

As her eyes adjusted to the light around her she suddenly realized that she was not in her bed but rather sitting in her desk, having fallen asleep in the middle of Cyclops' English class.

Rubbing wildly at her eyes Rogue silently cursed Erik for his emotional memories. She didn't think she could handle any more from him, not after today anyway. It had been a wild range of emotions in what no doubt probably took a matter of minutes. It was utterly exhausting to relive.

Mind flashing back to the memory Rogue felt her hands begin to twitch slightly as she gripped the edge of her desk.

Moira MacTaggart. She had never met the woman before, but as of now she hated her entire being.

Erik had finally found some peace, a sense of comfort, at least that's what she had felt. And no sooner had he felt that warm presence of acceptance and sense of pride in what he had accomplished, was it suddenly squashed by this woman's nagging reminder of a Presidential Address.

Rogue's knuckles were turning white from the grip she had on the table but she couldn't bring herself to let go; she was far too angry.

There was another soft nudge and this time Rogue looked up to see Bobby giving her a curious look.

"Are you ok," he asked softly before motioning to her hands which were still poised in a death grip on the edge of the desk.

Sighing Rogue slowly relaxed her grip on the desk. Closing her eyes, she swallowed back the sarcastic remark that was bubbling in her throat and instead settled for arranging her face in a composed manner before replying in a clipped tone "fine."

Bobby's eyes narrowed in scrutiny as he looked at Rogue quietly. Dropping his gaze to his paper he mumbled "you were crying when you woke up."

It wasn't a question more a statement, an invasive one at that. Rogue didn't feel like talking about it, least of all to Bobby. They were trying to sort out a relationship that would work for them, and things were already complicated enough without throwing in the fact that _'Hey Bobby guess what, your girlfriend is slowly losing it having to relieve the memories of the man who tried to kill her atop Lady Liberty a few months ago.'_

Pulling her gaze away from Bobby to focus on the board where Cyclops had written something about carpetbaggers representing corruption in Mark Twain's _Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_. "I don't want to talk about it," she replied tersely.

Eyes flickering to the clock on the wall Rogue silently began to count the seconds left until she could leave and avoid this conversation all together.

1 minute. 60 seconds. 60, excruciatingly long, seconds. It was nearly a lifetime of waiting.

Bobby shifted in his seat to face Rogue defiantly pushing is chin up as he asked "why not," apparently insistent on getting an answer from her.

Rogue focused on the clock. 45 seconds.

"I'd just rather not," she spoke defensively hoping he would just drop it and stop asking.

Bobby remained quiet and Rogue was thankful. 30 seconds.

Her eyes followed the slow path the red second hand was taking around the clock. Slowly it clicked its way around the face; 15 seconds left now.

"I think I should have a right to know why my _girlfriend_ is crying," Bobby spoke sounding hurt.

Grinding her teeth together Rogue shut her eyes tightly; she did not need this right now. The bell sounded and Cyclops gave a reminder to the class that next week they would be starting _The Great Gatsby_.

Rogue stood up grabbing her binder before whirling around to face Bobby. Face tingeing red Rogue sent a glare to Bobby as she shoved her binder into her backpack roughly.

"You just wouldn't understand so just drop it already," she snapped as she finally managed to pull the zipper shut on her bag.

Throwing the bag over her shoulder Rogue stormed out of the room leaving a very confused Bobby still sitting in his desk.

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><p><strong>AN: it just seems like each chapter gets even longer XD but phew I'm glad to finally get this posted!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Chapter 5, finally XD College makes updating tough :/ but I finally had some down time to write, drabbles are so much easier to update, but I opted against starting in on chapter 4 of Chapters in the book of you and me so I could finish this (it's been half written on my jumpdrive for a while now) This story is beginning to reach it's end, only 4 more chapters left, and one of them is half written

I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it

And as always

Reviews=LOVE!

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><p>Chapter 5<p>

The mansion was far too quiet in Rogue's opinion, even for a Sunday afternoon.

Normally the courtyard would be filled with the younger students enjoying a game of basketball or soccer or whatever other game they fancied at the moment. The older students would gather in the game room, above childish games, instead they would squabble over control of the TV or a turn at the foosball table. However, now a strange quietness befell the entire place.

Rogue silently criticized herself for not joining John, Bobby, and Jubilee in their impromptu trip to the lake, but it was too much of a risk to swim with them. Too much exposed skin, and she didn't want to hurt anyone least of all her friends.

She remembered faintly Jean mentioning a trip to the zoo with a few of the younger students, but she couldn't remember all the details. Frowning she drew a hand through her hair; she couldn't possibly be here all alone, could she?

Slipping on a pair of shoes she decided to venture out of her room to see if there was anyone else here.

Walking down the hallway she noticed that most of the dorms were closed signifying the occupants were not there. Walking down the stairs she did spot Piotr showing Kitty one of his drawings in the foyer, but she didn't want to intrude. There's nothing worse than being the third wheel.

Going back upstairs she ducked down another hall making a series of turns until she found herself in an area of the mansion she was not familiar with. Eyes darting across the hallway she tried to catch her bearings when she spotted something familiar; the danger room.

She grinned realizing that she had found a back hallway; she'd been at the mansion nearly a year and she was still discovering new things. Continuing down the new hallway she ran her hand against the wall.

She was halfway down the corridor when her hand ran against a door that gave way inwards. Retracting her hand quickly Rogue threw a look over her shoulder to see if there was anyone else nearby before she stuck her head into the new room.

Cautiously she took a step inside the doorway letting her eyes roam over the new area. It looked to be a private study of some sort, but clearly it had fallen into a state of repair.

There was a bookcase on the left wall; heavily coated in dust, the curtains, maroon in color appearing slightly medieval, hung lifelessly blocking out any incoming sun, in the center of the room was a table with a chessboard, two chairs on opposite sides with an end table holding some antique lamp.

Walking closer to the table Rogue noticed that the pieces were not in starting position but already arranged in the middle of a game. She noted the fine layer of dust that draped across the entire board; obviously the game had been abandoned long ago.

Dragging her hand lightly across the edge of the table Rogue felt a pull of familiarity at the back of her mind. She shook her head, there's no way this could be familiar, this was the first she'd ever seen of this room, and chess was not her forte. Discarding the nagging pull Rogue removed her hand from the table wiping her dust covered hand on her jeans.

Biting her bottom lip her eyes fell to the book she had previously overlooked that lay in one of the chairs. Tilting her head she squinted at the worn cover to read the title; _The Once and Future King_.

Picking up the book she lightly drew her hand across the front attempting to smooth out the tattered cover. The book was well worn; it was obviously a favorite of the Professor's. The corners of several pages were dog-eared and the binding was cracked. Towards the center of the book a large section looked to have water damage, the pages were a yellowish color, the edges warped giving the book a bloated look.

The Professor had the money to buy a new copy, and yet he hadn't. This book must have a lot of meaning for him to have kept hold of it in this state Rogue thought as she turned to book over in her hands.

Wiping down one of the chairs Rogue lowered herself taking a seat opening the book in the process. Her eyes scanned the page _'The Sword and the Stone'_; her mind automatically jumped to the tale of King Arthur and she quickly flipped to the next page eager to read.

Drawing her knees to her chest Rogue rested the book on the arm of her chair as she flipped another page. Entranced with the words floating off the pages Rogue slouched down in the chair to get comfy as she continued to flip through book.

She fought off a yawn wanting to read more about Wart and Cully, but her eyes began to rebel against her and soon she found her eyelids drooping.

Words began to run together and Rogue soon found herself lost in the characters Robin and Little John; her brain, no longer able to keep the storyline straight, began to shut down on its own accord. Yawning once more she felt her hand tremble under the weight of the book as her eyes slipped shut.

Her eyelids felt like they'd been glued shut, and it would take far too much energy to reopen them so Rogue didn't even bother to try, she just shifted in the chair bringing her arms to wrap around herself letting her mind begin to drift.

It's nearly ten and I know we should be in bed fast asleep right now because tomorrow we face Shaw, and yet here I find myself having a nightcap with Charles in the midst of a chess game.

Marini glass in hand I take a sip allowing a smirk to grace my lips as I watch Charles survey the board.

"Cuba. Russia, America. It makes no difference," Charles voices evenly as he moves his queen. The silent check is implied, and he doesn't bother to voice it, instead he retracts his right hand bringing his fingers to clasp together as he rests his forearms on the top of his knees.

"Shaw has declared war on mankind, on all of us," he continues giving one last look to the board before averting his eyes.

'_Mankind, not us.'_

Shifting in my seat I extend my arm to the end table relinquishing my drink as I scoot forward in my chair.

Hands grabbing the armrests, Charles pushes himself backwards crossing his legs in the process to emit an air of dignity.

"He has to be stopped," Charles iterates with a sense of finality in his voice.

Sinking into the seat of my chair I let my eyes roam the board before flicking my gaze upwards to eye Charles.

"I'm not going to stop Shaw," I state calmly earning a wary look from Charles whose brows are furrowing in confusion.

"I'm going to kill him," I finish leaning forward to take his queen with my king.

I can't help the smugness that creeps into my voice as I continue. "Do you have it in you to allow that," I ask as I toy with his queen before placing it on the edge with the other captured pieces. Leaning back I lock my eyes on Charles looking expectantly trying to gage his reaction to my statement.

A small scoff leaves his lips and he leans forward once more arms resting on his knees, but he doesn't say a word.

'_Fine, we'll play it your way.'_

"You've known all along why I was here Charles," I press trying to earn some type of reaction.

His eyes are fixed staring intently on his half-drunk brandy glass. He's refusing to look up but I can tell by how his shoulders are tensely hunched he's nearing the edge of his resolve and my reaction is quickly approaching.

"But things have changed," I start slowly. "What started out as a cover mission, tomorrow mankind will know mutants exist."

'_And now for the salt in the wound.'_

"Shaw, us, they won't differentiate."

Charles' head snaps up at my last words. His eyes, normally blue and full of light are now a steely shade of gray as they stare at me in a calculating gaze.

"They'll fear us, and that fear will turn into hatred."

Charles' brow is furrowing in deep thought as he begins processing what I've said and before I can finish speaking he is shaking his head in disagreement ready for a rebuttal. "Not if we stop a war," he counters. "Not if we can prevent Shaw," he adds with a wave of his hand. "Not if we risk our lives doing so," he says locking eyes with me.

It nearly makes me laugh. He fully believes that they'd care if we risk our lives. We're just pawns to them, completely and utterly dispensable. Once Shaw is done, they won't need us, and yet he's trapped in the illusion that we're the world for these people. People who have already proved time and again an inability to protect let alone trust their own, why would they risk anything for those of u who are different?

"Would they do the same for us," I ask leveling my gaze letting perhaps more bitterness than necessary to seep into my question.

"We have it in us to be the better man," he sighs trying to feed me that righteous mumbo he's always preaching.

"We already are," I bite out forcefully. "We're the next stage of human evolution, you said so yourself, I add quickly.

'_Two can play at this game.'_

He's obviously caught on to what I'm doing, reversing his words on him, because now he's shaking his head again only this time with more conviction.

"No," he voices as he picks up his brandy glass he shakes his head as if to get me to stop pushing the subject. It's only one word, but the sharpness with which it's been spoken should key me into the fact it's a touchy subject and perhaps I've pushed too hard to get my point across. Then again I've never been one to back away from confrontation.

"Are you really so naïve as to think that they won't battle their own extinction?"

His eyes are fixed on the board between us, intently staring at the pieces eyeing a move we both know he's not going to make. He's refusing to look up, but I've never been one to fight fair and I'm going to get my reaction.

"Or is it arrogance," I bite out disdainfully.

That seems to have done the trick. His eyebrows raise in a mixture of shock and confusion as his eyes focus on me.

"I'm sorry," he asks words lacing with incredulity. I'd obviously offended him or at least struck a nerve with my last statement.

"After tomorrow, they're going to turn on us," I state quietly. "But you're blind to it because you believe they're all like Moira," I bite out. Her name rolls off my tongue like an unfavorable taste and I just barely suppress the urge to cringe in disgust.

Straightening in his chair Charles shifts his head so his chin is pointing out defiantly. "And you believe they're all like Shaw," he forces out coldly."

'_Touché.'  
><em>But being cold is just not in his nature and he's letting out a sigh as he leans forward in his chair. Hovering over the board he looks me in the eye and in a very measure voice starts to speak.

"Listen to me carefully my friend," he starts giving a pause to make sure he has my attention. "Killing Shaw will not bring you peace," it's said with an underlying hint of pleading.

Pursing my lips I consider this information before allowing my lips to curl upwards in a half smirk. Scoffing quietly I lock eyes with Charles before replying "peace was never an option."

Scott is leaving the danger room toweling off his face when he first notices the open door halfway down the hallway.

He frowns when he realizes which room it is; the Professor's private study.

The room is rarely in use now, it usually remains sealed off. To his knowledge it only gets used about once a year, when the Professor spends the afternoon in there looking over the chessboard that's been paused mid-game for years now and occasionally flipping through the worn pages of a book left on a chair that's seen better days.

Nobody questions why he disappears to the room, he's sacrificed enough time to accommodate everyone else, an afternoon to himself is warranted if he so chooses.

However today is not the usual day the Professor visits that room, that information alone makes the open door a rather daunting image for Scott.

Tossing the towel over his shoulder Scott warily makes his way down the hall to the open door. Hand poised on the edge of his visor Scott peers inside ready for any oncoming attack from the inside of the room.

He allows a small chuckle to fall from his lips when he sees Marie slouched in one of the chairs the weathered book pressed against her chest. No intruders, well not the violent type.

Dropping his hand from his visor Scott edged into the room. Carefully extracting the book from Marie's grasp he placed it on the end table before moving closer to scoop the young girl in his arms. Sleeping in a chair would do a number on anyone's back, no matter how young they were; Scott thought it best that he take her back to her room.

Shifting her carefully in his arms to get a better hold he tried his best not to jostle her too much. Judging by the dark circles under her eyes he would venture that she hadn't been sleeping well, and if she had finally managed to fall asleep far be it from him to wake her.

Backing out of the room he nudged the door closed as he turned in the direction to the student dorms where Marie was staying.

A soft groan escaped Marie's lips and her brow creased in anxiety causing Scott to pause his movements. Soon her face relaxed and her breathing evened and Scott took his cue to continue to her room.


End file.
